PARADIGM SCRAWL

Decide India's Tomorrow, Today!!!

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 07:56:45 +0200

What makes Elections 2009 different from the ones before? For the first time, so many celebrities are involved. The youth is aggressive about casting their first vote. The independent candidates from educated and elite backgrounds promise progressive administration of the country and their readiness to give up profitable business or professions and come and serve the people.

Among the smaller things related to the elections, are the concerns of a first time voter. Who to vote? Sometimes we don't see good in anyone, so then, what to do, just never vote? That's what pushes most of the educated class to not vote. The difficulty in going through the formalities to get a voters ID, then the queue to vote, "(sighs) We'd rather stay at home, in AC and watch TV"

Okay you're a concerned citizen, who has gone through all the years of waiting to get your Voters ID issued and then wait in the queue to vote, but who to vote?!

How many voters do some sort of background verification? Is education necessary for politicians? I am particularly impressed by this first time voters views Sushen Pai

" With the election fever around the corner and being the first time voter that I am, I just wonder..

The first and foremost fact is that none of the candidates are worth voting for. All of them surely have allegations stacked against them or worse, a criminal background; though I must admit I have not done any kind of background verification. I don’t need to! Another thing I’m sure of, without having to verify, is that they are all uneducated. School or college drop outs at some time, they took to politics like the oft repeated Johnson’s definition of politics being the last resort of scoundrels. They neither have any sort of developmental works to their credit nor a flattering profile. The power mongers took to politics with the sole intention of growing rich by milking the system dry, thanks to the million loopholes and our shameless custom of bribery.
I do not want to choose any of them but the fact remains that, I can only choose the lesser sin of the lot. The Electronic Voting Machines rule out the option of invalid votes. The 49-O forms will never be found at the polling booths and heck, I will not have someone else voting in my name.
I’m no expert and I may be wrong talking with respect to India, but I somehow feel the dual-party system, as in USA, works well. There are only two options to choose from, it is either this or that! There will never be an issue of coalition government or a Hung parliament. Somehow we will have a better choice of candidates, if two-party system is the case.

Even better, we can have an ombudsman for ticket seeking candidates. The candidates should have at least a formal degree from a recognized university and a profile that matches the requirements as mentioned in a framework set by the connoisseurs of the arena. This framework should be revised to stay in tune with the changing times and necessities.

Sledging is another commonly used technique. Allegations against opposition party candidates sensationalized especially when elections are around the corner. Another thing is the way issues are blown way out of proportion. Little do they realize that, any publicity is good publicity; tasteless nevertheless. The Varun Gandhi episode, Pramod Mutalik versus Renuka Chowdary and the Pink Chaddi campaign, Modi bashing for publicity, seeking mercy votes and targeting minority vote banks etc. All this should somehow be nipped in the bud, it is disgusting!

Another thought of mine is that only tax payers should be eligible to vote as only they truly value their hard earned money and put in the effort of correctly deciding who should lead and how. A teenybopper I once knew voted for a candidate at the last elections (she was then a first time voter) because she thought he was cute! A bedridden octogenarian (May his soul now rest in peace!) said he always admired Nehru and declared that voting for the daughter-in-law of the family was his way of showing loyalty. How can we expect to have proper leaders when we have voters biased on such unreasonable terms?
It is probably the Ayn Rand influence but we cannot sit back and expect things to become the way they ought to be. The system will not change till the leaders change and the leaders will not change till the people desire the change. We are a democracy and we should find a way of getting the changes we desire to see.

To end it all, I’m just a first time voter and these are just a few of my concerns! "

Though movie stars have played a role in politics before, siding up with various parties, this time it is different. While some film stars or filmmakers are contesting elections, others are canvassing for various parties, and still others are working with grassroot organizations in helping people to register and vote in the upcoming general elections. Right from versatile stars like Kamal Hassan to newbies like his daughter, Shruti Hassan, they have a statement of their fans.

Indian fans are more devoted to their stars than god. No wonder political parties spend crores of Rupees in roping them in, hoping to convert the star-campaigns into favorable votes. After all, we are talking about the world's largest democratic election!!!

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BLONDE MOMENTS

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 17:31:33 +0200

When I was asked to choose a topic for a free speech that was a part of our Leadership and Management skills workshop, I decided something that would easily and naturally come out of memory. For someone as pensively lost as me, "Blonde Moments" seemed apt! I announced it only to hear people ask what it meant. Forget the lexicon, I'd define it as an embarrassing moment caused out of one's own ignorant act or statement, or in simple words -stupidity!

I'm no etymologist, but I suppose it comes from the conventional belief that the golden haired blondes maybe attractive on the outside but speak to them, learn the depth of dimwit. Perhaps that's how the phrase "Beauty and brains don't go together" came about. Like, in India, there are "saddu" jokes, in the west,blonde jokes are popular. Though in reality, it has nothing to do with the real IQ level of the saddus or the blondes, it's just come to mean that way. So much so that, when someone did something stupid and embarrassed themselves, they'd say "Oh, I just had a blonde moment"

Before I walked up, my classmate Sonia asked, "Blonde moments? You? Karthika?".

I respect Sonia's opinion on my sanity, but here's there secret you shouldn't be knowing- I have more blonde moments than an average individual. Just fortunately for me, most of these moments go unnoticed at large but regrettably only the people whom I dearly hope haven't noticed, would do!

There is a certain expectation that the nick, "nerd "pressures on you. Last year, we had two theory exams on the same day. For a pure commerce material, theory papers may be creative writing session. It didn't really matter which of the two came first. I walked into the exam hall in full gusto and got the paper that was passed back and skimmed through.

Wow! Familiar stuff… I ticked off the questions I had to write. Rolled up my sleeves, slashed the margins on all the sheets, sat upright like a real know-it-all, and just as I begin, the girl beside me, pokes.....

"Hey..That's my BBA paper"

Cry. Sob. Weeps.

Blonde moments at workplaces can be blasphemous! On an internship, while interacting with a colleague, I was hardly listening. I had to make the best use of the short period there and was hence, I was mentally occupied thinking about my next question. As a response to something, I murmured, "so, where does your dad work?"

"He's retired"

"Oh! I'm sorry!"

"No no! He's just retired", he replied in panic.

Realizing my dire mistake, I said again, "Oh! I m sorry"

He got confused! I just hope he assumed humanity has reached the stage of empathy that there were advance condolences for even retired individuals.

Well, if you thought embarrassing moments with your close ones didn't matter? How does it sound if food is your first love, and your parents or your partner call you when you're mouthful, and you said "Hey, can't talk now! My lips are occupied with my first love. Can you call later?"

You're lucky if they do!

Come on, no one was born brainy. Life's a wisdom walk. You learn to walk only by falling over. Everyone has blonde moments, but more than being the joker of the moment, the better part lies in acknowledging it and laughing it off. Like Elsa Maxwell puts it, "Laugh at yourself, before anyone else can!"

Published in The Hindu , NxG http://www.go-nxg.com/?p=2702

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SpOoFff....

Tue, 06 May 2008 09:22:37 +0200

No words I write can ever say
How much I hate you everyday
As time goes on, my loathing grows
How much I dislike you, no one knows.

This frustration in my mind
This abhorrence in my life,
Is in my heart
And is mine to keep.

Heartaches in this world are many
But mine is worse than any.
My heart aches as I whisper loud,
Wish you'll never come, no doubt.

Life has changed so much
It isn't like before
Earlier people did nothing but study
And had no time for sea shores

Now, we have so my obligations
Radio, Phone, Movies and Televisions
Betcha people in the past couldn't have done this well
Had they had all this additional…

I ain't partying hard
Nor picking rows on streets
Nor thieving or anything else
that'll bring my folks ignominy

Yet, I fall into this trap of deep perils
Each time you come by,
Please realize the tribulations you 'cause,
& never plunge by ..

So,Please say goodbye
Monsieur exam results,
Signing off ,
Resultophobia

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THE SPIDERMAN ON 29C

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 06:09:35 +0200

“Hey, can I leave? It takes about an hour to reach home and I’ll miss the bus if I don’t leave now….” I try explaining to a perfectly bemused lady in front of me.
It wasn’t an excuse to escape the lackluster woman I was supposed to be romancing with. Well, I had figured out hours ago that she became as uninterested as I and the whole thing turned out to be such a time-waste more than a flop. The excuse didn’t work well with the girl who has only traveled by luxury cars and has never tried a public bus in Chennai. It seemed obvious to both of us that we wanted to leave which we did, with an unintentional “see you later”. I smirk at her ignorance, prosperity and blush with embarrassment at my own mediocrity.

The bus stop was crowded as usual. A sick man had been lying there for week. I wonder if he was dead. Flies, mosquitoes and other insects , the names of which I don’t know, hovered over the body. I cover my nose with my hand and waited for the bus to Mylapore. I resist the urge to go and ask a group of girls standing in the stop if they had seen the 29C bus leave. One of the tube lights in the bus stop flickered and suddenly went off. An extremely crowded 41D came, stopped and left. Then came another 41D. Closely followed by another. I hope my 29C comes this often.

A group of girls giggle noisily and a nerdy guy is reading a book with the light of his mobile phone. I moved up to the guy and noticed “Income Tax” printed on the top of the book. “Must be a CA student”, I mutter under my breath. I shrug at his seriousness. People are too worried about their families, studies, careers, everything. “Survival of the Fittest” is most frequently discussed in the present day I suppose. Even Darwin himself must have not thought so much about it. The fittest gets the admission, gets the interview card, and gets the job and the gets the right partner. You’ve got to compete for everything these days.

Another group of college students hovered under the bus stop. I almost fell on the girl with the ID card. It’s frustrating when people push, pull and ram in motion when a bus comes. My heart rings an alarm when I see another group approaching the bus stop. I silently prayed they don’t want 29C.

An old, blind lady wanted to cross the street. She looked worn out. Maybe she’s a beggar. Anyhow I didn’t budge. What if my 29C came when I was at the other end of the road helping this oldie ? A strikingly pretty girl turned around to give me a disgusted look.
See how my image gets damaged? Now speak of survival of the fittest. How am I expected to run help an old lady and catch my bus, if it comes when I am at the other side of the road?

I can’t take this anymore. This population and the competition! I think the Earth is ruined with a new-fangled malady. A disease, rather. You know what disease I am talking about, yes; of course, it is the disease of too many mouths to feed. Now, let us think about the principal evils of our planet. The Earth has only one major problem: humans, and to be unambiguous, too many humans. Overpopulation is in my honest opinion, the most serious problem on earth. That, my friend, is reality! How many people are completely dispossessed – they live on earth, they are from Earth, but they possess not even one square millimeter of their home planet! This is a very mean catastrophe! How many don’t get to travel by their own bikes, cars or any other “own” vehicle? (Why are we talking about owning a vehicle, when owning a place of abode seems to be impossible? Do we need vehicles more than homes? Ironically, there are many people who own vehicles but not homes.)

Overpopulation leads to neck breaking competition, the depletion of essential non-renewable resources, destructive wars, pollution, acid rain, the depletion of the ozone layer, greenhouse effect, and the poisoning of Earth., erosion of soil, the annihilation of other living species and the destruction of important ecologies, the obliteration of the atmosphere, aberrant variations in weather patterns, the possible heating – or cooling – of the earth and the accompanying rise – or fall – in sea levels, nuclear waste, and so on. I can just go on forever.

This isn’t something I’ve started to worry about recently. When we were first taught about overpopulation, in fourth or fifth grade, I couldn’t get sleep that night, worrying if water would last till I die. Would there be water to drink or to shower? Would I have to die of thirst or stink? With over population will everyone get a job? Will there be jobs enough to employ me and my family and my friends and my neighbors and ……
Oh! There are just too many people. Okay, will there be a job at least for me? Will I be able to save money to buy myself a bike someday? Or would have all the oil resources and petrol been exhausted by the time I buy a bike?

The bus I am desperately waiting for comes and everyone at the bus stop dash for it. I run, but unable to hide my gentlemanliness I make way for all the ladies to get in. The conductor blows his whistle and I, having no other choice jump onboard. One foot is on the first step into the bus and the other foot is just hanging loose. There are another six people suspended to the bus like me. The bus is leaning to one side with all that weight. My hands clutch on to the bus window’s grill and the door. I realize those ladies for whom, I made way must be thinking what a “loser” I am. They are comfortably seated whilst I am hanging on like a Spiderman. Some girls think we are trying to impress them with our heroism. Please, do not confuse it with gentlemanliness! I still blame the overpopulation. Everyone is trying to impress their family, friends, bosses, colleagues and even strangers. Survival of the fittest, remember? So much so I can’t even live with good manners without being called as a “loser”.

Friends, face it. We now live in a world when a new baby is born, you worry about the resources it will need to grow up, survive and again, procreate. If it becomes unwell, it will perhaps require even more limited resources. Meanwhile it will worry about this overpopulation like me, who is standing (read as hanging) on a bus which has a capacity of thirty people but is now carrying more than fifty, while group of girls sit contentedly, perhaps even turn back (I hope), to look at this Spiderman who saved them from dangling for their lives on the footboard of 29C.

DISCLAIMER : Creativity allows writing from another's perspective which goes beyond all existing traits, including gender, hence don't worry till your hair turns Grey! I'm "Miss" Karthika!

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GOLDEN CAGE

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 20:46:15 +0100

A lavish dwelling
With all material pleasures
A gratifying feast
Again redundantly profuse
An enviable wardrobe
That could clad many for a year
The best of everything
The newest too
Yet it’s just a golden cage
Which I’m born into

I flinch when others
Envy my silver spoon
For what I have not
Is a normal life
With a birthright to laugh in joy
But merely a mechanical life

For what I have not
A soul to share my life with
Many souls perhaps…
Understand me for,
I’d rather have gruel with many
Than eat cake alone
So here I am,
Free to live but not to fly
Live royally, but cry in this bonded life
Hope decaying in futile rage
Like a bird a golden cage

Sequined silk and golden chains
Fail to heal the scars that remain
Making me learn that joy comes not from wealth
But from loving people and sound health.

But here I am imprisoned
Where I don’t live
But merely exist
With heavy volumes that
I ought to read
For a rewarding career it seems
All for what?
To eventually build another
Golden cage for my victims
Yet to be borne and born by me?

Rich spoilt child is what you protect me from
No need to, I tell you
But why does a plea for a normal social life
Have to mean pubs or discotheques?
Instead why remind me of the diamond walls
That have, been built for me
Like I asked for it?
I seek not, the whole world
But merely, my share in it.

Free me,I am a little golden bird
In this golden cage..

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Voice of the Eternal Companion ....

Thu, 27 Dec 2007 17:17:37 +0100

The first waves splash
Gently against the rocks
As the day goes
Harder on the rocks
Engulfing and enveloping in his strong waves …..
At noon the sun burns the rocks
But the water will cool
And the rocks will await for those warm waves
Come evening the waves will subside
The excitement of the day is no more
For the sea now romances the moon
At this moment the rocks will sadly await …
For the morning
For the sea…
But yet again, next evening
The rocks will be alone
Waiting for the morning
Waiting for the sea..
But how long to wait??
The sea will never stay
With the rocks forever
So why wait??
Just like they always say
Today’s sorrow is tomorrow happiness…
Someday, the hard waves,
Powerful tides would have
Beaten the rocks to granules
Grains of fresh sand
Forming a beautiful beach
An abode for all love
All affection and all fun..
And then will realize the sea
His waves and tides
That without the rocks
He would ne’er be
The blissful, gentle, beautiful beach
That they form together , now….
© G N Karthika 2006

In the morning time, the high tides splash against the rocks. When the sun stings the rocks, the high tides splashes and soothes. In the evening the tides are low and the rocks still yearn for those relieving splashes. But it seems as if the reflection of the moon in the water signifies that the water now chooses to spend time with the forever beautiful moon. Again the next morning, in the absence of the moon, the sea again reaches for the already seduced rocks that are forever waiting for the soothing water. But the sea will return to reflect and romance the moon in the evening again. Yet the rocks patiently wait…Over the years… the consistent splashes would have eroded the rocks to granules of sand forming a gorgeous sea… Then the sea will realize that without the rocks that have become sand today, it cannot be the stunning sea that everyone admires now…

Similarly in life, in moments of despair, you would have met people who would have set you sailing but they may not realize the impact they’ve made on you. Probably they yearned for companionship and found you as an alternative. Such people will not stay with you forever. You may go on waiting, missing and adoring them forever but they just move on and forth in life. You’ll be hurt at heart. But someday in future, when that person turns back and looks, that person will realize that you were the one who is the reason for their success. What’s the use of this bitter realization now? Even you will be successful, admired and adored, someday. Swallow hard and move on in life. Your day will come.

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Memoirs of A Geisha- By Arthur Golden – Book Review

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 03:32:24 +0100

“Breathtaking! Brilliant! Beautiful!”

That’s what is very likely to come out from your mouth when you’re done.

Arthur Golden’s Memoir’s of a Geisha, is one fantastic novel I’ve read in a long, long time. A spectacularly feminine tour into the life of a geisha. Initially I was under a delusion that Golden was the translator of a Geisha’s autobiography.

I was astonished that a man wrote this book! It’s incredible that a man has so meticulously covered the minutest and intricate details of a woman’s life, feelings and her society. Incredibility amplifies to hear that it’s an American man who has written with such elaborate details about the Japanese, with such an effortless style. I wonder if, even some of the metropolitan Japanese are aware this well about their own culture.

Coming to the story, Memoirs of a Geisha, illustrates the life of Sakamoto Chiyo, who is sold to an okiya, a house for geisha. Despising her stunning grey-blue eyes, Hatsumomo, a leading geisha of Gion and the only geisha that okiya, is cruel to Chiyo from the very beginning. Sensing that she would definitely pose threat to her fame, she also plots against Chiyo to ruin her chances of becoming a Geisha. Mameha, a good-hearted, pious, intelligent, beautiful and the most popular Geisha of Japan, who is also despised by Hatsomono, decides on training Chiyo to become a Geisha. Unnerved by Hatsomono’s quick route to making “Pumpkin” (Chiyo’s peer at the okiya) a geisha, Mameha plans slowly and strategically, towards making Chiyo, the best one. She observes auspicious dates and changes Chiyo’s name to Sayuri, on her becoming of a Geisha.

Right from managing Sayuri’s clients, fame and rivalry from Hatsomono to Sayuri’s mizuage, Mameha shows tactfulness and intellect. Sayuri not only becomes a famous geisha, with important dignitaries and top businessmen as her clients, she manages to encounter with her beloved Chairman, who changes her life right from the first meet, which was when Sayuri was a forlorn child, Chiyo. Chairman wipes off her tears and gives her money to buy shaved ice and from that day, her heart was all set to become his. It is later revealed that Chairman had mentioned to the renowned Mameha to take up on pretty Chiyo, for geisha-training, , which altered her life forever. Only because he told Mameha to seek out the girl with the blue-grey eyes did Chiyo become the geisha Sayuri.

The story ends with Sayuri settling in the US with her own teahouse there.
The novel has several other intricate and important sequences of events within. And to write an honest and complete review for this novel would result in another novel by itself.

My cousin, Meenakshi and I argued over our acceptance about the life of a geisha. While, my cuz discarded it saying, “How different is it from a keep? And Sayuri’s mizuage (selling her virginity to the highest bidder) is somewhat of ceremonial prostitution.” I somehow perceived Geishas are entertainers and dancers and I eulogize Golden for his style of writing.

However, the suing of Arthur Golden for breach of contract and defamation by Mineko Iwasaki arouses further interest in the real life of a Geisha and slightly alters the regard for Golden’s novel.

Iwasaki, who was once Japan’s most famous Geisha, who was one among the many geishas, Golden had interviewed for his novel, was obviously a image for Golden’s main character Sayuri, who is also depicted as the most famous geisha. Many incidents in her life and the storyline are similar and it is easy for anyone to guess that Sayuri was obviously based on Iwasaki. Besides, Iwasaki is mentioned as a source in Golden’s acknowledgements. Iwasaki had agreed to share her experience but her anonymity was important due to the traditional code of silence about the Geisha’s clients, and this breach had resulted in her receiving threat calls as well. Golden is also sued for defaming the Geisha in the “mizuage” and confirming the widespread mistaken belief that Geishas practice ceremonial prostitution. However, this is a serious inaccuracy in the novel. In Memoirs, the mizuage is depicted as a deflowering ceremony, in which the geisha had physical relations with a client for the first time. However, this type of coming-of-age was practiced by the courtesans called oiran. A geisha's coming-of-age involved changing from apprenticeship to adulthood, outwardly signified by a change in hairstyle and clothing.

Despite the very serious errors, Golden deserves full credit for: one, such in-depth research into the Japanese subculture; two, his highly commendable style of writing, which nearly creates a stunning scenic imagery in our minds as if watching it in real, or perhaps living it; and finally for such perfectly feminine writing from a woman’s stance.

After all, to err is human, so go-ahead, and definitely read this book. I don’t have to tell you, I am sure, you’ll be looking out for Iwasaki’s autobiography (Geisha of Gion), next, for rectifying the doubts that the errors in Golden’s novel would have created.

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Mother- By Maxim Gorky- Book Review.

Wed, 07 Nov 2007 09:15:08 +0100

“Mother”, the magnum opus of the revolutionary Russian writer, Maxim Gorky, divulges to the reader, the a somewhat accurate peep into the lives of the working class people in soviet union in later half of 19th century and early stages of 20th century when the formerly agrarian Russia enters into a capitalist mode. The story plays with poignant themes to express the stressed lives of the factory workers, their families and their cynical outlook towards life.

Written during around the time of Industrialization, the novel reveals how the ordinary soviet plebs realized, stirred and involved in an upheaval and mêlée against the autocratic czar and the capitalists of the country which ultimately ended with the great October Revolution.

Like most revolutions, this one is also ignited at the base of the society, and the “people power” is employed to overthrow the existing servitude, apathy and trepidation. In “Mother”, Gorky takes the reader through that transformational phase where the revolutionaries persistently struggle to make their initial ignition in the minds of the people and persevere to keep it burning and how the uprising evolves to the revolution.
The plot concentrates on Pelageya Nelovna – the widow of a petty factory worker Vlassov, who stays away from social consciousness and revolutionary movements because of the burden of her life itself. She is accustomed to an outlook towards life, where men work till their bodies are completely tired, drink and beatup their wives and children to sublimate their frustration. However , she begins to transform when her son Pavel Vlassov, who takes a different direction when compared to other people living in the workers townships and moves in the path of revolution and eventually becoming an absolute part of the revolution itself, and inspired thousands of soviet workers lived under the capitalist society of the then soviet union. Initially, she is fearful that her son's Bolshevik revolutionary activities will bring disaster on him and the family. As the story unfolds and the son's commitment grows in line with the government's repressive policies the mother starts, slowly, very slowly, to get the point of his work. Along the way her own `politics' change and by the end she is as committed to the cause as her son. Her banner is now red She became “representative mother” for the country calling and supporting her children to fight for their rights.

Though, Gorky adopts a slow-paced, dragging style of writing, “Mother” is a good piece of social propaganda with a great, radical story.

The E-book can be downloaded for free, at : http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/3783 or read online at http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/g/gorky/maksim/g66m/ or http://www.marxists.org/archive/gorky-maxim/1906/mother/index.htm

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To all my college classmates

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 10:30:29 +0200

Disclaimers:

Firstly, I'd like to inform you that the following content is a memoir-cum-testimonial. Had I let the words flow out freely, it would have most certainly, turned out to be dreary. Hence, I decided to go with sarcasm, if not humor, which means, readers should take everything in a lighter vein, lest the matter offends you.

Secondly, I urge all my classmates to read it, and recommend it to other classmates "ONLY" and I express my apologies to those to whom I haven't emailed myself, as it is, without doubt, only because of not having your email address.

Thirdly, I would appreciate it, if you'd reply and expressing your comments on the write up and also adding your points to the memoir, which I hope to compile and resend to all.

Fourthly, I understand that we are nearly pushing past second year and hence, apologies for the delay of "first year memories".

Fifthly, please acknowledge this as a joint diary to pen down our college days as an when it happened. Someday in life, when we re-read the same, I am confident; it will flood you with nostalgia.

Finally, thank you for your valuable time on this major build-up unless the subsequent content lives up to your expectations. (*laughs*)

Truly yours,
Karthika

FIRST YEAR MEMORIES

Contrasting to the contemporary, "Umm... Well, You see, because…Err …. So Where do I begin……?", end of year memoir, let me begin this write up, rather "professionally", as we began the first semester of our B.Com so as "to maintain the highly reputed decorum" of our "much-loved-by-students" college. Fortunately for us or by the Almighty's clemency, we had the opportunity to breathe in a more "student-ly" atmosphere in the second semester rather than the throat-clutching "professional" one that we had to in the first sem. If we recall, there wouldn't be much to recollect in the first semester, except Abhilasha. Most of us, felt that M.O.P. (Hang on, is it Most Outrageous Prison?) would have sucked out the best of our senses before we passed out.

By God's Bliss, the second semester allowed us to be casual at various points in the class, helped us make more friends and of course, really made me, at the end, enjoy college. Personally, the first semester had drained my every last drop of hope of being able to survive in this city. I can't imagine, I despised, the class, the college and even the city, just because of one constituent that was making life miserable for me and I swear this is true, I would have left the college or maybe Chennai itself, hadn't minor changes taken place in the human resources of the institution. I repeat, I never imagined "one" mortal, yes, just one entity had made me loathe Chennai itself. (Yeah, for those of you who are scratching your heads on that, never mind, I just overwhelmed with emotions, personal, not to be understood and just in case you did. Bravo! You're my pal! )

The second semester however had more to remember: (Just in case you don't understand the subsequence, it's just the fun you've missed!)

1. Significant ones being, killing our Srilankan Comrade with sagas of books, most of which even I haven't read, just for the fun of enjoying her expression of repugnance.
2. Confiding in the Queen of Eyeliner and some more associates about someone from Loyola who presented Teddy bears to me (Muah)!
3. Finishing the statistics project while the presentation was going on in class and managing to finish it in 5 mins and presenting it in 2 mins and getting 13 on 15, which I suppose is what most of the other teams got.
4. Listening to my underground officials who told me who bitched about whom, what and why.
5. Getting to sit at my favorite place so I can admire Bangles and Eyeliners. *ugh* *laughs* *stay far away*
6. Getting to Queensland and all of us, swearing at guys over there who didn't understand what "Buck off" meant, ( read B as F)
7. Enjoying bharatnatyam performances every time our NCC victor cum possessor of a N series Nokia passes by. (dancing while walking Talent Cup- Ta da!)
8. Observing the class rip into smithereens of linguistic groups. *sigh*
9. French classes where we slogged with verbs and conjugations*
10. Accounts Classes where we understood**
11. Logic classes which were supposed to take place but all I recollect it perhaps witnessing the shoot for a silent movie .
12. Watching the highly informative and entertaining Channel MOP and listening to MOP Fm on a daily basis and re-listening to it in the evening , because of our dedication and devotion to the institution.***
13. Drinking lots of water, "yawning" with peace and breathing with ease which we couldn't in the first semester.
14. Timeless other enjoyable moments.
15. Timeless other displeasing moments.

In conclusion, I'd like to request you to add your comments and add your memories of our college days.

Thank you once again for your time for reading this and straining your brains over it and apologize for the damages so caused****.

Cheers,

GNK

*over SMS
**that the sender of the communication didn't have any idea about the message at all.
***what's the frequency by the way????
**** Kindly control your annoyance. Compensation will not be made for chappals thrown at me.

Comments

The Dressing Room

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 20:23:05 +0200

It was just five thirty in the morning and the sun was already out. Looking out of the window , Vinod , smiled at the familiar settings around him .He wasn’t out of the plane, yet he could feel bristling of the neem trees’ leaves, the smell of the muddy roads , the moist air , the endless noise of people chuckling and chatting in their own dialects…..

‘ We have arrived at the Anna International Airport . The local time here is …….’

Vinod couldn’t believe that three years had past since he left his family, home and friends for England for his postgraduate degree .Then came the unexpected scholarship offer . He had struggled through exams and interviews and to everyone’s surprise achieved the full scholarship for the research programme without any influence or recommendation.

And now he was back home on a vacation. His mother would chide him for the short duration of his holiday .His brother wouldn’t show the slightest difference in his attitude towards him. His brother , the so called “cool-dude” of his college .Envisaging all this , he picked his luggage and walked out of the arrivals building. Blasts of cool air in the airport gave away to the moist and humid air outside. Looking over the large , bristling crowd of expectant relatives , parents and friends awaiting the arrivals of their dear ones , he couldn’t miss his brother’s flamboyant shirt. “At least he is useful in one way ,one can’t miss him in any crowd”, he thought . Waving at him, he walked in the direction of his brother. His mother welcomed him with a tight hug , his father a quick embrace and his brother, a pat.

As they drove back home , they chatted without even a second’s pause. From the neighbour’s daughter’s marriage to the buying of a new house by his uncle in Kolkata , his mother had so much to tell him .

Somewhere in the middle , Suresh , his brother said , ‘ Ma , he’s not come here to chat and gossip about all this nonsense . Keep this kind of a conversation with ladies only , ma ..guys talk much ……’,and he fell silent at his mother’s unavoidable glare .

At the entrance the old gurkha greeted him displaying his pan-stained teeth .Everyone’s just the same, everything is just the way it was when I left it, he thought .That day from the cook to the maid , everyone in the house was working only to make his stay comfortable. His mother bustled around charging at every human on her way. Everyone had to know her son had come from England.

‘Dude , you’re getting so much of attention , I wish I could also get lost somewhere for three years ..’, Suresh complained to him .

Finally , after lunch , he was left alone. Everyone was taking their afternoon siesta. He locked the door of his room and searched for his address book. ‘Damn , I am such an unorganised person’. , he cursed himself. As he searched he could hear his heart beat faster and skip a beat when he finally found it .
His finger automatically found the page he was looking for. Under ‘P’ the very first and neatly written entry, Preeti Shankar . He quickly dialled ‘24386382’ and waited for the ring. ‘****, the line’s busy’ , thought .

The entire afternoon he did nothing but dial a line that seemed to be perpetually busy . After dinner , he bid everyone an early ‘ good night’ , locked his room and tried again .
If only he knew………..

He had been waiting for this vacation for almost a year now. He’d promised to meet his e-pal, a mysterious girl who he had become really close to over the year.
Sometimes he wondered , if he was making a mistake and wasting his time with a silly girl who was years younger to him .Sometimes he would just wonder how this girl would look like or would he really get to meet her . Would she be tall and thin as she described herself or was she a totally sickly looking kid who had just been lying to him ?

He had never been so curious to find out about anyone, but this girl had something canny about herself that fascinated him . At first , she had given him a fake name and place and told him that she was over cautious and did not trust people online. He took him weeks to convince her that not all people were untrustable and finally got her to tell him about her true self. But now she had gone to the extent of giving him her address and phone number and made him promise her that he would visit her sometime. And she calls herself over cautious?

‘I’ll catch her online’ , he thought. At 1 am in the night , with the entire house asleep and without sleep for almost two nights , the tired and weary guy forced himself to the computer.

Preeti – offline

‘****!’

Preeti signed in .
1:30 am preeti : hi …how are you ?
1:30 am preeti : are you there ?
1:31 am vinod : hi …sorry I slept ….I was waiting for you anyway
1:31 am preeti :really ..vinod you promised to reach India and call me .
1:32 am vinod : I did , many times .. your line was always engaged …
1:32 am preeti: ok , anyway now tell me , when are you planning to start visiting your less important friends ?
…
…

4:30 am vinod: ok , done . see you tomorrow for lunch then…bye good night …morning actually …

Chen’s Kitchen was at the other end of the city. The thought of Chinese food reminded him of his Chinese crush , Mei . ‘Big **** , any day I am more worth a guy than that fool she’s going out with.’ , he told himself. ‘And it’s not going to take me much time to forget her any way.
For a smart guy like me I ….. ’, he stopped mid-sentence to look at a somnolent and weary face at the mirror .
‘ should get some sleep .’

He hadn’t slept well for three nights and was looking terrible.

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon and still there wasn’t a single sign of a tall and thin girl.
There were a million possibilities. May be she came and didn’t recognise any one , and left or she got the time wrong or she got the place wrong ……….. or something happened to her on her way !
Or maybe she couldn’t make it because …of a million reasons. Or may be she is just here and noticing him from a distance ………

‘That sounds so much like her’, thought Vinod .

Preeti signed in .
1:05am preeti says: hi
1:05am vinod says: hi
1:05am preeti says: why didn’t you come today ?
1:06am vinod says : I did. I waited till five and then I had my lunch and left.
1:06am preeti says : yeah , right . I was there from two o’clock and finally I had to leave. I have classes in the evening , Vinod.
1:07am vinod says : Don’t lie. I am sure you didn’t come. I was there.
1:07am preeti says : oh really. You don’t believe me isn’t it ? Okay then good night . Bye.
1:08am vinod says : Hey wait . sorry . But really I was there. Maybe you did not recognise me. You still have the picture I sent you?
1:08 am preeti says: yes.
1:09am vinod says ; Why don’t you give me your picture? Maybe I’ll recognise you easily
1:10am preeti says: …
1:10am vinod says: ?
1:11am preeti says: I’ll see if I have one and …
1:12am vinod says : No . It’s fine. I’m not forcing you . Any way I’ll see you soon.
1:13am preeti says : Exactly.
1:13am vinod says : It’s up to you. If you are not comfortable with it , leave it .
1:14am preeti says : ….okay
1:14am vinod says : Okay then . tomorrow ….. same place ? same time ?
1:15am preeti says : Okay.

…
…

4:05am preeti says: Hey it’s almost dawn. I have to go.
4:06am vinod says : Hey. I haven’t slept for almost a week now. Why don’t you come online in the mornings. And your line is always engaged. You run a telephone booth or what?
4:07am preeti says : No way. In the mornings , I have school and other stuff to do so I won’t be able to come. Sorry. You need not come tomorrow. Good night now.
4:08am vinod says : No . It’s okay. It’s only now that I am free and …
4:09am preeti says : I really have to run now. Damn, the sun’s almost out.
4:10am vinod says : Okay. Why are you so uncomfortable about the sun , mornings ….
4:10am preeti says : No, my mother will wake up now. Bye

‘Vinod , wake up , it’s 5 o’clock .’
‘What ?’
‘Remember. We are going to the temple today. We have to be there by six. It’s already late’
‘I-I ..just slept …’
‘What?’
‘I mean I didn’t get sleep. I was awake all night .You know the time difference, ma ? It’s just eleven thirty in the night there . I am just feeling sleepy. And…..’
Vinod sat up resignedly on the bed. He couldn’t believe he had managed to lie so blatantly even when he was semi-conscious.
‘Let him sleep now.’, his father told his mother. ‘Vinod , come with Suresh at nine , okay ?’
He was already sound asleep.

‘Hey, when are we starting , Suresh ?’
‘No idea. As late as possible.’
‘Huh?’
‘I need to bunk college effectively , dude . I’m not wasting time with some priest. Let’s start at nine thirty. I going to tell them you woke up only at nine okay? Come on , you’re their pet, they won’t say anything to you. And….’
‘Shut up. Just tell me when are we going to be back?’
‘ After lunch I think. It’s some special puja for you , man. Or generally we’ll be back in an hour.And…’
‘What’s special about it?’
‘Ma thinks everyone is talking about you. She says that going to arouse evil spirits against you ‘cause everyone is jealous. Boooo’
‘What !! She really embarrasses me at times’
‘She’s really proud of you , man.’
‘Yeah. I know’
‘But she overdoes it’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah ……. Hey I hope you don’t think I am jealous of you. Do you ?’
‘No, I am not thinking like that. Are you any way?’
‘Yeah. In a way. I wish I get lost from here.’
‘Come on. Why ?’
‘They think I am the black sheep in the family. I don’t care about that. But I bet you’re not a saint too’
‘Definitely. I could be worse than you , who knows’ , Vinod laughed. ‘ Just that , I keep my mouth shut at home.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why don’t you do that?’
‘I’ll try…Besides..’
‘WAIT !!!! Did you say we won’t be back for lunch?’

Vinod was visiting Chen’s Kitchen the second time this week. Looking over a score of people , Vinod desperately searched for a face he had never seen. Giving up finally , he left a message at the bill counter and left.
‘Now , where the hell is this idiot’, thought Vinod. As though his mind was being read ,….
‘Hey Vinod , I am here .’, Suresh shouted to him.
Vinod walked over to their car and got in.
‘Was she there?’, Suresh asked.
‘Huh?’
‘Come on. Why would you really be so desperate to wait and look for a guy unless you’re so gay. It has to be a girl , man . Come on tell me.’
‘No.’
‘I Know it’s a girl…’
‘I said , no she wasn’t there.’
‘Oh! Who is she anyway ?’

‘Don’t tell me , Vinod , come on dude ! She could be anyone. Huh , never thought you’d be this stupid.’
‘What is your problem ? She is just a friend , okay ?’
‘Whatever ! You’ve never seen her . You don’t know who she is , Vinod ! And she is calling you somewhere. What if she does something to you ?’
‘Like what ?’, Vinod asked giving his younger brother a rash look.
‘Threaten . Kidnap. Or just hang around with you , have some fun , make you pay her bills , etc .’
‘Shut up . I’ve never met her before , all right but I know her as a person , Suresh and she’s cute . She’s a school-kid . Come on .’
‘She could be lying.’
‘Yeah ? Even if she is , I still seem to like her as a friend and I am still interested in meeting her okay ? The kid is having a tough time at home , with school .She goes through a lot of pressure .I am glad at least she feels good talking to me . Now you just keep your mouth shut? Clear?’
‘Hmph !’
‘And be a good driver otherwise let me know , I’ll hire one who’ll mind his own business’

Suresh walked out of the room and went into his own. Vinod fell back on the couch and recollected the events of the day .He didn’t expect his brother , who has tried probably everything under the Sun to advice him . He better keep his mouth shut .

`That night , the chat was brief and clear . Chen’s kitchen was too crowded. The best place to meet was her school .On the 24th of October,each year Ignatius School celebrated their annual day. Unfortunately , Preeti is part of one of the Dance Programmes , so she won’t be able to see him in the Visitor’s Gallery or watch the function with the rest of the students and guests in the Auditorium. The dressing room is the best place.

So , this is impossible to miss . Vinod thought . Definitely , she’ll be there for at least four hours , till the function is over . Only for about forty five minutes she’ll be running around and she’ll be busy . The rest of the time , it is impossible to miss her. After all , Ignatius is a small school .

In her mail , she had assured , there will be no teachers around . Her friends will all be either watching or participating in the programme. Just come to the Senior Girl’s Dressing Room on the Ground Floor .

That was simple wasn;t it ?

Traffic in Madras is such a curse to it’s citizens. More so , because it means to listening to a hunk’s advice . Who else ? Suresh .

Ignatius School was a seven buildings in one fifty-nine acre campus. A school purely for the kids of the elite class. The auditorium was a huge air conditioned hall . Suresh didn’t fancy watching a school program. He was going to pace around the campus.

At the gate , the watchman was not holding back anyone . There were many guests. Parents , relatives ,friends , students and many others just walked into the well lit and decorated campus .

Finding the Dressing Room was no big deal. Getting into it , was the problem . Girls walked in and out with make up , towels , scarves , brushes and combs . “I better wait for the programme to begin.” Vinod thought . “Where’s Suresh ?”

Suresh , for the first time saw a different side of his brother. Anxiety was something that was never seen on his brother’s face. He was always calm and composed , atleast appeared to be .
He walked to main school building. The foyer was filled with graffiti and posters. Suresh walked over to the door with “Visitor’s Gallery” inscribed on it.

Gazing around the trophies, cups and plaques , Suresh whiled the time away. He walked over the room to the attached lounge and seated himself comfortably on a couch. He wondered where his brother was or what he was up to. As he looked around dreamily , a black book caught his attention. It was a dusty diary with “1995” printed on it. Suresh looked around . There was no one except him. He went on to take the book and patted off it’s dust. Slowly as though his inner voice was commanding him to read the book, Suresh hesitantly opened it and skimmed through the pages. The page October 24th caught his attention. It was blood stained. It took him some time to realize that they were not blood stains. That diary entry was written with blood ! He was even shocked to see that the rest of the dairy was written in blood as well. A shock went up his spine. His blood curdled . He looked around for any signs of human movement. The room began to get hotter. The ceiling fan had stopped.

‘Relax.’ He told himself. He had never switched on the fan in the first place. Slowly he tried to read the blood stains.

October 24th 1995
Dear diary

Today, was the last day of my life. I am dead now. I can’t hold a pen to write. My friends and my family are crying over me. I told them I am okay . It was my foolishness that killed me. But they can’t hear me. I was a fool to wait behind in Dressing Room while others went to perform. It was stupidity on my part to agree to meet some unknown fool. I don’t know for what reason he wanted me. But what ever he wanted , he really wanted it . He was ready to kill if he didn’t get what he wanted. He had been so nice. He was so friendly and affectionate. How could I be so stupid ? I am not dead. I am still alive in my spirits. Hereafter , I am going to run around making stupid ,job less guys believe me and come to this very same place where I was killed. Every year , October 24th will be my Revenge Day. The very same Dressing Room where I was killed will be the Revenge Room. I am going to ki…..

Suddenly, the lights went off and the fan began to oscillate. Suresh’s heart bet faster and faster. He dared himself to get up from the couch. His palms were wet. He strained his eyes to look for the exit. The Visitor’s Gallery was a curtained room and there was no light. He breathed heavily and trembled. ‘Is this really me? Why am I scared ? There could have been a power cut off? Come on Suresh ….” Suddenly the lights were on again . Suresh ran for the exit. The lights went off again. He pulled the knob.
It was locked !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vinod waited impatiently. The girls seemed to be there forever. Once in a while someone would ask him what he wanted.
“Nothing” ,
“My sister is performing today.” Or
“Is the principal’s visitor’s room this side? “

Some student came up to him and told him to clean up the mess in classroom number thirteen.
“I should have worn something smart. I guess I look like a cleaner in this stupid black shirt . Sheesh .”, he told himself.

As the time ticked on, Vinod was getting impatient by the minute.
“Preetiiiiii ….” , some student shouted.
Vinod stood upright and looked around.
“Are your students ready ? Their show is next , right ? They should be ready in another three minutes.”

Vinod sighed and leaned against the wall again. It was some teacher by that name .

A line of girls dressed in a rainbow of colours and in absurd costumes walked out of the Dressing Room. Vinod waited for two minutes and put his right step forward towards the Dressing Room.

Suresh jerked the knob as hard as could. He kicked and yelled for help. He felt for the window and bumped his hand on another knob. He quickly realized he has been pulling the book shelf’s door. He ran his fingers over the wall. It seemed to go on and on. He tripped over a pot and realized he was near the couch again. The door was right across the couch . He slowly walked straight across and felt the knob again . Crossing his fingers , he tried to open it and sighed heavily when it did. He has forgotten the way the gallery looked . Now how was he going to get out of this ?

He crawled and felt for any door ahead.

CRASSHH……….

He heard glass breaking. He crawled all the more slowly. Glass ? Is that what is going to kill him ?
He envisaged a ghost holding a piece of glass and fiercely thrusting it on him. Would anyone find him by tonight ? Tomorrow was a weekend ? People would get to see him , no , his dead body only on Monday . No , his parents would look for him and find his body before that. Vinod would tell them that he was here . Oh , Vinod would find him by tonight. Not all that bad. He was drenched in sweat.

“I wish I was wearing some cotton not this stupid thing.”, he said to himself.

He heard footsteps. As if that was to remind him that it doesn’t matter in which dress you die in.

He suddenly bumped on a hard wood and realized he was at the door. He quickly got up and yanked the door open and ran out.

Where the hell on earth was his brother ? He was supposed to meet that girl in the Dressing Room !!!!!

“Vinooooodddddddddd”

“Girls ! On Saturday you all were supposed to stay back and clean up the mess. Hasn’t the school provided you with tissues. Ignatius School has a tradition of good discipline. Students like you all will bring down it’s reputation. We are highly disappointed , girls ! The Senior Girls’ Dressing Room was scattered with torn pieces of black cloth and red body paint smeared all over.”

Comments

Memories of non-Geisha

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 20:11:10 +0200

Are you a model? Oh no, wait, you are just a geek who dresses up for college

I often run into these, let me be honest, gorgeous and stunning girls in college and wonder how long they spend in front of the mirrors. Hasn’t everyone got two eyes, two ears and a mouth and a nose and two forelimbs and hind limbs? Then what’s that extra thing? Well, it’s certainly the art of the geishas that they’ve learnt. Whilst, you buy a bottle of ink and a box of stationery , they invest in a bottle of foundation and a box of compact powder. And you stuff in a colorful range of Cello points or Reynolds Add Gel, they have their range of lip gloss. When most of us are too lazy and can’t write properly with Nataraj or Camlin pencils, they work skillfully with their Revlon and Maybelline Versions.

Oh come on, everyone loves to look good , yet the best part of this student life is to get frayed with the trouble-free excuse, “No time for self maintenance” , as if you were worked so hard on your course, that you didn’t find time for yourself. And it is so easy to believe , beauty is no more an inborn thing. It’s just some work of art. There is someway or the other to alter every part of yourself and make you look at your best. (Does this sound like I am saying anyone can be something like Rai or Hepburn or Pitt? Well, you’ll certainly be one in your own way). Good looking is no more a feature. It’s a habit that speaks volumes about your character. Shows how much you care about yourself or how much you are jobless! Someone who has a train of earrings and one ring perched on the eye brow just above a thick dust of eye color and kohl is different from a plain , spotless, glowing face and certainly different from a shabby looking third person. Looking glam , isn’t necessary though looking well groomed is.

Yet, these big time glam and fab girls seem to “outshine” the sun, ( you know, the Fair and lovely sunscreen?) while we get roasted darker. But with all these books and course materials around and tons of homework and social commitments, it isn’t really cool to be a part of those people who live in Beauty parlors. Come on, the whole fun of the student life, is to enjoy yourself the way you are. By the way just when you are at your best and you step into class, everyone seems to be hung-over or induced to sleep by lecturers or unfortunately before you reach college, the sun would have caked or smudged your make up. Though it sounds absurd, there seems to be this impossibility of wearing make up in this Indian city. Perhaps because abroad, right from your car to your home to the biggest mall to your office and to the smallest “coffee shop” to go to, it is air-conditioned and that’s perhaps why those natives seem to be dressed up all the time. And in our country it is only those freaks who travel by air-conditioned cars to go to even the next building are like those perpetually ready-to-walk-the-ramp models.

Come on , being perfect is like awful. It’s “unstudently” . It’s isn’t our way of life. So, let us uglies, zip up our jeans-for-the-week ( water saving strategy) , and pullover a five year old ( money saving strategy) kurta, slip into the pair of chappals you picked on the roads of Pondy Bazaar and step out proud!
Hindustan Zindabad!

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Dr. Octopus

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 15:04:46 +0200

"Ok. Lie down" ,he said.

I leaned back and he bent over me. I noticed the “John Players” Tag in the collar of his shirt. I looked down to see if his trousers had a label, outside. Nope. Maybe it’s just some tailored one. It didn’t even seem to fit him properly. He wore some weird, ugly tie that had some “octopus” kind of design. One thing that I love doing is staring at people in their eyes. Eyes are like mirrors of the mind. I wondered if that disconcerted him for he suddenly looked up at the ceiling for no apparent reason. When he looked down again, I was still staring. Then I wondered if he guessed perfumes. I had a school-mate, a perfume-geek who’d smell anyone and guess the fragrance. Provided, they used some well known brand. Even otherwise, she’d at least figure out the composition. My friend later confessed she gave up that habit once she returned to our tropical native. It’s quite unfathomable to want to smell people in the streets of Mumbai.

He seemed to be neither interested in my eyes nor seemed to guess fragrances and just stared down and explored my opened mouth.

“Say, aaahhh , he said.

I tried to “aaahhh” more and let him think or stare or both.

Then, he brought out two spade-like things and tried shoving one of them in my mouth. It didn’t even get in. Then he chucked that and brought out the smaller and it seemed to fit in. Dr. Octopus then scurried back into the store room and came back in a tick with some slimy green substance in the spade.

I “aaahhh”ed again and Doc-Oc pushed it up my jaw and finally, stared down into my eyes as he held the spade for a while. How
Depressing, some young guy is finally staring into your eyes , and you are there lying down with your oral cave open wide.
You know what? Stretching open your mouth to this extent could actually make you look uglier. Okay now, I know that’s just an excuse but really, does change the shape of your face. If you look like a pumpkin, with your mouth open you could look like a jackfruit.

It’s only these totally awkward moments in life that make you think. I gave up on his boring eyes and went back to the octopus tie. Before long he pulled the spade out. And I saw my upper jaw impression in the green slime. He looked or admired or whichever at it for a second and suddenly kicked. I thought he hated my jaw but quickly learnt it was for water. The tap beside me ran and filled a plastic tumbler. Doc-oc told me he’d have my retainers ready by Friday and called his assistant to mark my appointment for that evening.

I walked back home quietly. With jaw-spread open for so long, didn’t feel like doing anything with mouth for the rest of the evening. Just let my mind think about the young Doc-oc and recalled the day -

Beep!!
Message received.
Adhithya:
“What is the difference between Suicide and Murder?
If you smile at yourself in the mirror, that’s a suicide. If you smile at me, that’s a murder.”

“Shut up you nerd” – I replied.

But he wasn’t entirely wrong to have messaged that just when I was leaving to the Dentist’s.

I, regrettably, go to a sophisticated dentist, who uses a toothbrush shaped camera and projects your oral cave on a small Onida TV in front of you. The first time he used it, I stared, distraught at the screen trying to figure out which part of my mouth could be possibly that large and unearthly.

Thankfully my Dentist guy was having a poor day of business and the minute I went in, I was ushered in.

“So what happened to you? General Check up?” , He asked.
“Hmm. No my upper retainers broke. I need new ones.”
“Broke? In your mouth?” ( Funny eh? Thought my jaw dropped and they broke within?)
“ Ahem. No. My retainer box fell down and they broke” , I explained.

“Ok. Lie down” He had said.

Comments

About me......

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 14:41:13 +0200

A cherub of genuineness, and a trance of fiction,

That’s what I am, a package of contradiction

My beauty is a work of art(don't ask if it's modern art),

and for perfection, it will take long.

At least I can reveal that, to others when I'm wrong.

I’ll by no means forget, an important date.

You just got to deal with me, I'm usually late.

I don't watch movies, with lots of gore.

And I don’t call for a replay, to remember the score

At times I'll be ruthless, cheery, and sad,

I'll hate you like venom, and love you like mad.

Comments